Archive for sayers

Have His Carcase stars Edward Petherbridge as Peter Wimsey. The production is notable, for me, for the excellence of the sexual tension portrayed by Petherbridge and Harriet Walter, who plays Harriet Vane. Some of it arises from the book, most importantly their big fight, which can be summed up as “saving a woman from the gallows can put a big damper of your hopes of getting matrimonially laid.” That scene in this adaptation is splendidly acted, especially by Petherbridge, who ranges from hurt to rage to a dreadful, sad weariness in less than five minutes. For that scene alone, this DVD is worth it.There is demonstration of how Peter feels about Harriet which is mostly skimmed over or ignored in the novel; in the television adaptation, you see him touch her, more than once, but always in circumscribed ways. They dance in the novel, but the actors show desperation in the way Harriet pulls away from Peter before the dance is concluded. A lighthearted discussion of marriage proposals becomes less lighthearted, and Peter’s joking hand on Harriet’s knee attains new significance. In the final scene, Peter takes Harriet’s hand and kisses her wrist, between glove and sleeve, a deeply sensual gesture that shows us all we need to know.

I think about how that kind of body language could be applied to prose; do those scenes affect me so deeply because I already had a visceral knowledge of the novels, or would they stand on their own? And would they be so meaningful if they’d been written out? Are there some things that really only work in the visual medium?

There are the usual minor changes to the novel. The only one that really disappointed me was riding the horse down the beach–Bunter replaces Peter, which may have been a matter of the actors’ riding ability, or simply that the available stuntman had dark hair. So far as guest casting goes, Jeremy Sinden as Henry Weldon is wonderfully odious!

The Edward Petherbridge adaptations of the Peter Wimsey novels follow the books less closely than the Ian Carmichael adaptations; there are still huge chunks of verbatim dialogue, but these later ones move scenes around a bit more freely, not really to the detriment of the story as seen on screen.

As far as casting goes, Harriet Walter makes a wonderful Harriet, even without a deep, husky voice and with bad makeup, neither of which is her fault. Ditto Edward Petherbridge, who is too old for the role but otherwise perfection in one of Wimsey’s tailored suits. I could take or leave the actor who played Parker; he was good, but I didn’t feel the warmth between Parker and Wimsey that I would’ve liked. Bunter, however, I adore. I can easily seeing Bunter being as young and cute as Richard Morant; otherwise, how did he charm all those housemaids throughout the books? The character must be close to 40 by Strong Poison (in Busman’s Honeymoon, Peter mentions Bunter’s “20 years service”) but that didn’t bother me as much as Peter looking ten years older than his supposed age. Perhaps because it’s easy to imagine nothing ever changing Bunter.

A friend and I disagreed a bit on Petherbridge–she felt he doesn’t do the “silly ass” act well enough, but I think that act is much less present in the Harriet books anyway. And with the more serious scenes, he’s simply outstanding.

I think the adaptation of Strong Poison is worth watching for its own sake. It’s a very static book–lots of courtroom scenes and sitting around–so some cutting for television was necessary, and really, they cut very little; the main thing I missed was Peter going to Charles Parker to ask him why he hadn’t yet proposed to Mary. Freddy Arbuthnot’s engagement was likewise cut. The bohemian party is considerably smaller and less raucous; they made up for this by having one of the women characters be extremely butch (as she is not in the novel, unless it’s so subtle I never caught it; she might be gay, but I don’t think she wore men’s suits). Scenes are slightly rearranged so that we are reminded throughout of Harriet in prison. There’s a slight but effective change in the ending: instead of Harriet looking for Peter to thank him and finding he’s driven off, he waits for her in the corridor outside the courtroom; she sees him, but turns and walks away without speaking. Same result, more dramatic visual.

Bill the lockpick made it in, and Miss Murchison, who blossoms before our eyes, and Miss Climpson’s seance. The actor who played Boyes in flashback had a really sexy voice.

All of the flaws were redeemed by the dialogues between Peter and Harriet in the prison. The camera work is very clever; at a couple of really intense moments, we see Harriet’s face as she reacts to something Peter has said, but only the back of his head, so his expression is hidden. Carefully chosen moments, I would bet money. I could feel the energy between them.

The most recent Wimsey series, so far as I know (shown in America on PBS’ “Mystery”), starred Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. It includes Strong Poison, Have His Carcase, and Gaudy Night. I’ll start with the last one because it’s my least favorite.I first saw the Gaudy Night adaptation when it aired in the United States for the first time. I remember being bitterly disappointed, because the bits that did make it into the screenplay were performed so exquisitely by the actors. But the bits that didn’t nearly make me scream, and do make me pull the book off the shelf to read them before I can rest. (No, I don’t have to search for those scenes within the novel…I just go from one to the next, neat as clockwork…sigh.) I will never understand why anyone could think Gaudy Night could be adapted in three episodes, when it is the richest novel of the whole series.

The screenplay uses whole chunks of verbatim dialogue from the novel, yet missing are most of my favorite things. The romance was sacrificed in favor of the mystery; there was method in their madness; but the little bits of romance they left in were just that much more lonely.

The dog collar was taken out, and the ivory chessmen. Viscount St. George and Reggie Pomfret make no appearance. Harriet spends no time working on Miss Lydgate’s book, so far as I could tell. Jukes is gone completely, though Peter and Padgett’s war stories are replaced by a tiny scene between Padgett and Bunter. The dog collar was taken out, and the ivory chessmen. The dog collar was taken out, and the ivory chessmen. The dog collar was taken out, and the ivory chessmen. [ahem]

There is no Peter sleeping in the punt!!! [ahem, again] That, I could see them cutting, because all of the interesting stuff there is inside Harriet’s head. That whole scene in the punt, in which Harriet realizes and accepts for good and all that she is physically attracted in Peter, is made for print, not for screen. In the novel, it’s leisurely and completely satisfying; we are allowed to linger on things like the hair at the nape of his neck and his ear, which in a camera’s eye would have been strange and off-putting close-ups. To give the director credit, the camera lingers on Peter reviewing Harriet’s evidence book, and then her watching him, and then Peter looking up and their eyes meeting for a moment of realization. It’s gone in seconds. The actors manage to convey the meaning, I think. But it’s not the same.

Thinking more on it, I think there’s no way to make a perfect movie of Gaudy Night. It’s just too beautiful as a novel. There’s too much there, internally and otherwise. So I’m waiting for the virtual reality sensaround version.

Dorothy Sayers’ Murder Must Advertise was adapted for television in 1973 with Ian Carmichael as Peter Wimsey. Other notables guesting were Peter Bowles as Major Milligan, Fiona Walker as Miss Meteyard, John Hallam as Ingleby, Christopher Timothy as Willis, and Paul Darrow as Tallboy. Mark Eden and Rachel Herbert are wonderful as Charles and Mary Parker (i.e., Peter’s sister, nicknamed Polly). I liked the affection in the scenes between Peter, his sister, and his brother-in-law.I pulled out my copy of the book while watching parts three and four, and was able to follow right along. A lot of the dialogue was reproduced verbatim, though occasionally lines were assigned to different speakers. For example, in the book Peter has a long speech, and in the tv version Peter begins his speech, then Charles takes a couple of lines of it, then back to Peter, which is more fair to the actors, and more interesting to watch. All in all, I like the adaptation very much, despite my belief that Carmichael is too old for the role, and not the right physique (they put a belt on the Harlequin costume, and a cape, to make it a bit more concealing). Age aside, he’s wonderful with the “silly ass” who morphs into the detective, who’s not so silly at all.

I love the whole plotline of the detective playing one role as an “ordinary” person working in an advertising agency, plus another role as a mysterious swain to a possible villain, plus having to find time for himself and his own life, and seeing how all these overlap.

Some minor characters were trimmed or their roles doubled by others, but not to the story’s detriment. Charles and Peter took the place of two policemen at one point, and Peter is the one who sees someone fall under a train (and the additional person who fell under the train doesn’t appear at all). Peterkin, alas, does not appear, I think because the BBC avoided using child actors whenever possible, but his voice is heard offscreen, so the “Tears, idle tears” line is pretty much intact. The only thing lost is one small, adorable scene with Peter and Peterkin and his “naeroplane.”

Two other cuts were the Whifflets campaign, which is reduced to one mention in passing (as if it happened, but offscreen) and the cricket match. I can see how the Beeb didn’t want to shell out for a location shoot with a full cricket match and a lot of extras. Instead, Charles arrests “Mr. Bredon” at Pym’s.

I truly, truly loved the scene in which Peter tells Mr. Tallboy to walk home and not look behind him. In the book, he has a line after Tallboy leaves, about “the place of execution.” In the adaptation, it’s visceral. The door closes; Peter turns slightly away from the camera, then clutches convulsively at the mantel. He turns his back to the camera and crumples. Wow.

When Charles arrives to tell him all the doperunners have been caught, Peter drops his glass of (alcohol, presumably) and it shatters. Charles is talking about how they got them all. Peter walks quickly over to the drinks tray, quickly pours himself a drink, downs it quickly. His end line about “don’t feel much like celebrating” is the same as in the book. Wow again.

This adaptation of Dorothy Sayers’ Peter Wimsey mystery An Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club features Derek Newark, whom I rather liked, as Bunter. He and Ian Carmichael as Peter have a wonderful scene as they prepare to begin questioning the denizens of the Bellona Club about the General’s death; Newark manages to look quite offended when Ian Carmichael tells him he’s too tidy to be disguised as a journalist, a comment that’s borne out later on when we meet journalist Salcombe Hardy.

Marjorie Phelps, one of my favorite characters from the series, is present in this adaptation to great effect, played by Phyllida Law! (She’s the mother of actresses Emma and Sophie Thompson.) Anna Cropper gave a nuanced performance as Ann Dorland. I love seeing the portrayal of women in non-traditional roles.

I haven’t much else to say about this one. As usual with the Carmichael adaptations, it sticks fairly close to the actual novel. The main difference is that the tv version is more direct in pointing up the World War I experiences of George Fentiman and of Peter, and actually shows George wandering around in a “shell-shocked” fit. Also, a poppy in the lapel for Remembrance Day becomes an important plot point. When I first saw this on television, I was young enough to have very little knowledge of the First World War; I think seeing reading these books and viewing this series were among the things that piqued my interest in the period. It’s one thing to read about George’s problems with his stomach, another to understand that his physical troubles were caused by exposure to poison gas and realize the true horror of his situation.

While I’m out of town for Thanksgiving, I thought I’d post my comments on various television adaptations of Dorothy Sayers’ Peter Wimsey novels. It’s as good a way as any to occupy myself while I wait for release day for The Moonlight Mistress!

Those novels are a major part of my fictional consciousness. I read them for the first time in the early 1980s, then again in the late 1980s with a much deeper appreciation. I still re-read them, particularly certain ones, every few years, just as I re-read Jane Austen’s works and C.S. Forester’s Hornblower books (and as I expect to do with Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin books, once I’ve run out of new ones).

I have a collection of the Sayers adaptations on DVD, and periodically go back and watch, even though in all cases I prefer the books. What’s relevant to my usual blog topics is I’ve learned some interesting lessons about different ways to present the same or similar material in a story depending on format, and different ways to think about narrative itself.

If you haven’t read these classic mysteries, there are some spoilers in these posts.

The Nine Tailors is the oddest of the adaptations starring Ian Carmichael as Peter, because it strays farthest from the text. There’s a lot of movement in the novel’s dialogue, mostly breaking up long speeches among several characters in a scene, in ways that I don’t think I’d notice were I less familiar with the books, or in some cases holding the book in my hand as I watch. There are also various small omissions and shifts to accomodate the medium and the budget. One event I really missed is Peter having to climb onto the roof of the church, but I could see how that would have been a challenge for the budget.There’s one big difference between this adaptation and the others. The Nine Tailors adaptation has some completely original material. An important element of the novel is the theft of the Wilbraham emeralds during World War One, which here is dramatized, taking about 25% of the total length. Carmichael, though a bit too old to be convincing as a callow young Peter, nevertheless carries it off with changes in his manner and speech, and the judicious addition of a moustache. The viewer is then dragged to the trenches with Peter and Bunter; Peter’s traumatic experience is dramatized, as well as Bunter’s subsequent arrival to be Peter’s valet. At the same time, we see what happened to the villain Deacon, and how.

It’s scripted; none of this business is shown in the novels at all; yet I confess I liked it. Better than I liked the rest of this adaptation, which I found rather dry. (Yes, I know there’s a flood. Ahem.) The acting was all excellent, but for some reason, this particular adpatation didn’t grab me like some of the others. Maybe I was just in a mood when I watched it. Maybe it’s because I find large sections of the novel itself to be rather dull; by that point in the sequence, I want more of Harriet Vane and her glacial romance with Peter, and here I feel her lack acutely. Her absence in the novel is a presence, I think.

I did not feel the lack for all of the change-ringing neepery that fills the novel. It’s interesting enough, but definitely would not translate well to the screen.

Fans of Blake’s 7 will easily recognize the late David Jackson (Olag Gan) playing Jim Thody, the sailor brother of Will Thody. They may or may not spot Peter Tuddenham (voice of the computers Zen, Orac, and Slave) in Mr. Godfrey, who rings Batty Thomas; he’s using one of his innumberable accents, but traces of his future characters can be heard by the keen of ear.

I’m really glad I bought this DVD when I did; it’s difficult to find now.